


I'm Flirting With You

by emdaro



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emdaro/pseuds/emdaro
Summary: In which Race is oblivious to everything and everyone around him, until he isn't.





	I'm Flirting With You

Race would be the first to admit he didn’t pay much attention to those around him.

He wasn’t callous or anything, far from it. He just didn’t notice things. It took him a full month longer than everyone else to figure out that Crutchie was head over heels for Jack and a month longer to figure out Jack was just as bad. So when Spot Conlon offered to let him sell at Sheepshead, Race didn’t think much of it. It made sense, in his head. He was constantly crossing over to Brooklyn anyway to watch the races and it was a good show of diplomacy to Manhattan, especially after one of the Brooklyn newsies had royally pissed of Crutchie which meant that Jack was even more pissed. Letting Race sell in Brooklyn was a good way to ease the tension. It made sense. Never mind that Sheepshead was a fantastic selling spot and really should have gone to one of the Brooklyn newsies. He didn’t think about that. He also didn’t notice the knowing look on Jack’s face when Race told him about Spot’s proposal or the grin Crutchie was sporting.

Selling in Brooklyn was great. He always sold all his papers, even when the headline was shit, and he usually had company for most of the day. Spot had so many regulars that he was done selling by midmorning so he came and hung out with Race. Race wasn’t sure why. Spot had plenty of newsies, he could have easily bothered one of them. He never voiced that thought to Spot though. He enjoyed the attention, innocent as it was. Spot was plenty attractive and he was really funny, once you got past his asshole exterior. It helped that Race had an enormous crush on him, which he tried with all his might to push down. Having him around was no problem at all. With all the newsies coupling off, Race felt slightly lonely. It was nice to have a friend, if he could call Spot that. The days started turning into nights, hours spent playing cards at the Brooklyn lodging house and on a few occasions sleeping there because he couldn’t be bothered to go back to Manhattan. He didn’t notice the smirks that some of the older Brooklyn newsies sent Spot’s way or the glares Spot returned.

When the strike started, everything turned upside down. There was no more talking to Spot. When he heard that Spot had refused to join the strike, he was angry like everyone else. Then when he heard the reason he wasn’t surprised. Cold as he might have seemed, Spot cared about his newsies more than anything. He had personally witnessed Spot comfort a younger newsie after a nightmare, patch up some kid’s injuries from a fight and then go off to soak the person that hurt one of his boys. The Brooklyn newsies were family same as the Manhattan ones and Race knew that if the situation had been reversed, Jack would have done the same. But he didn’t voice that. He knew Spot better than most. He wasn’t surprised when Brooklyn joined in the end either. During all the chaos directly after the strike ended, he didn’t notice Spot trying to get through the crowd to him.

It was a couple days after the strike ended that Spot joined Race at Sheepshead again. He was leaning back against the wall, a barely discernible smile on his face when he saw Race approach.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Race commented, setting his page down and pulling one of the papers out.

Spot shrugged and leaned down, pulling one of the papers out of the bag. “Got nothing better to do.”

Race raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. The headline was good and Race’s papers were gone in under two hours, with the two of them selling. He turned to Spot once they were done, but Spot cut him off before he could speak.

“You wanna grab a bite to eat?”

Race was stunned. He thought about the money he had made, the extra he had brought to bet at the races. Then he nodded. It wasn’t every day Spot Conlon asked you to get lunch with him. He followed Spot and they walked into a little bakery. Spot ordered a sandwich and Race just got the same thing. They walked outside and between the two buildings, sitting down with their backs against the wall to eat.

“So, how’s everythin’ in Manhattan? Haven’t heard anythin’ from Jack yet, he must be holdin’ things together.” Spot asked as he unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.

Race laughed slightly. “Yeah, it’s alright. Nothin’ excitin’ since the strike ended.”

“How’re you doing?”

The question surprised Race but he tried not to show it. “Me? Ise doin’ alright I guess.”

“Got any of them ladies chasin’ after you? We got our mugs in the pape after all.”

Race laughed again. “No, no ladies.”

“Handsome face like that, can’t see why they wouldn’t be.”

“Maybe they can tell I wouldn’t be interested. More into the fellas myself.”

Spot nodded, a smirk appearing on his face and oh fuck, Race was definitely into the fellas. “Guess that’s somethin’ we have in common.”

Race nodded absently. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Any particular type of fella?”

“Dark hair, dark eyes, strong…” Race realized he was describing Spot and his cheeks reddened slightly.

“Hm, we got different types. More into blondes with blue eyes.”

Race didn’t really hear Spot’s words, he was busy focusing on the fact that he had just described Spot as his type to Spot. “Yeah.” His eyes followed the curve of Spot’s lips, trailed down to gaze at his arms. Did the guy own a shirt with sleeves? His shoulders were fucking broad, ridiculously so in proportion to his height.

“Got my eye on one particular fella though.”

“Course you do. Don’t everyone?”

“Race.”

Race tore his eyes away from Spot’s torso and met his gaze. “What?”

“Are you as stupid as you look?” Spot’s voice was matter of fact, with a hint of amusement.

Race frowned. “Hey, I don’t look stupid.”

“You’re right, you don’t.” Spot sighed. “But you sure act it. Just a pretty face I guess.”

“I- what?” Race was confused, more than before, and a little offended.

“Race, I’m flirting with you.” The sentence was blunt, to the point.

Race’s mind went blank. There were so many ways he could respond, so many things he could say. “Huh?”

“I’m flirting with you. Have been for a while actually.” Spot shrugged and balled up his trash, tossing it down the alley. “I thought you’d have picked up on it by now.”

“You haven’t.” Race shook his head, it was absurd. Spot would never flirt with him. “I’d have definitely…” He though back, to the first day Spot approached him and said he could sell at Sheepshead. He thought of their long conversations during the day, the backhanded compliments Spot would throw his way. The casual touches that in reality were anything but. “Shit.”

Spot laughed, shaking his head. “There it is.”

“I…uh…” Race reached out and grabbed Spot’s wrist, rendered temporarily mute.

“I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s alright?” Spot waited for Race to nod, then swooped in and kissed him. Holy fuck. He was kissing Spot Conlon. It felt like hours before they pulled apart, both of them breathing rather heavily.

“Race?”

“Yeah Spot?”

“That was also flirting with you.”

 


End file.
